Since Summers

thirty : childlike

Dear Mendes, what is wrong with me?! I scold myself for not spraying some cologne or something before I left home. Or perhaps the air freshener since (who am I kidding?) I didn't have cologne anyway. I lowered my hands and he dropped his hands. My waists felt oddly cold without them.

I cleared my throat, hoping that would clear any awkwardness in the air, and looked at the spot behind him where a discarded picnic basket was laying on the ground. "Oh, for Hemmings' sake! You threw away the basket?!"

Frazier turned around to see the upside-down basket then scratched the side of his head as if he just noticed of his action.

I moved closer to the basket and stared. "I'm worried about the pizza."

"I'm more worried about the wine," I heard Frazier muttered under his breath. His voice was very soft but thanks to the night air, my ears could pick it up.

I looked up and met his grey eyes. "What? You brought wine too?" I kneeled down and carefully turned the basket. "I'm not sure I want to open it." The basket was heavy, I could tell that it was packed with many things inside. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I added, "why did you have to throw it away?"

"Because the choice is either having you fall or," he paused and kneeled beside me. "That." Frazier pointed at the basket. "In a splits seconds, I had to make a decision and I chose you. Screw the basket."

I observed the poor thing, at least nothing spilled out of the basket. "I'm sure it'll be fine," said Frazier with a shrug.

I folded my arms and gave him a pointed look. "You could've caught me with one hand while the other holds the basket."

He rolled his eyes then held up his hand. "First, I'm not an actor in a romantic movie, nor am I a ninja so I can't multitask. Second, you're not that light."

I narrowed my eyes and gave him what I hoped was a look filled with hatred. "Did you just call me fat?"

"No." His reply was too quick. "I'm just saying that you're not exactly something I could hold with one hand. Anyway, it's getting late, we should get going." He grabbed the basket and offered me one hand to help me up.

I ignored his help and stood. "I still think you're calling me fat."

"You're not." He shoved his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. "Even if you are," Frazier added, affixing his breathtaking smirk I'd thought earlier, "it's a good thing, right? It shows that you're well fed."

I frowned. "Being fat is not a good thing these days. Don't you see how many people are getting bullied for being fat? I heard even the author of a book called The Bad Nerd Boy was bullied before for being fat."

"Most people are silly, in my opinion. We shouldn't be judged by how we look." He started to walk and signaled me to follow him. "It's a bit shallow, don't you think?" I gave him a nod as I walked beside him. "I would prefer being judged by my character, things that I've done, rather than how I look."

"Well, lucky for you, you have a movie star jaw and Chris Hemsworth's haircut. People would instantly like you, no matter how shitty your personality is." I rolled my eyes, recalling those girls who looked at him like he was some sort of a god. I mean, sure, he was pretty but at least I wasn't drooling.

Frazier let out a deep chuckle. "Is that your lame attempt at giving me a compliment?" His hand stroke his chin as he continued, "a movie star jaw and Chris Hemsworth's haircut, huh. Nothing about my eyes, my nose, or my lips?"

Him mentioning about his lips made me slid my gaze to the aforementioned feature, causing me to recall the kiss we'd shared a few days ago. Oh, melt. I dropped my gaze on the ground and shook those images away. "Are you fishing for compliments?"